Twilight and Evening Bell
by daughterofhorses
Summary: They always deserved the happy ending that they never got, what if something went wrong and they were given a chance at it. Slight Katniss/Gale mention, Peeta bashing, if you can't deal with it don't read. Johanna swearing, be warned but that is the only reason for the rating. Every chapter is based off a different poem. It is finished but will be edited.
1. Crossing the Bar

_Crossing the Bar_

Sunset and evening star,

_ And one clear call for me!  
>And may there be no moaning of the bar,<br>When I put out to sea,_

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,  
>Too full for sound and foam,<br>When that which drew from out the boundless deep  
>Turns again home.<p>

Twilight and evening bell,  
>And after that the dark!<br>And may there be no sadness of farewell,  
>When I embark;<p>

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place  
>The flood may bear me far,<br>I hope to see my Pilot face to face  
>When I have crossed the bar.<p>

_-Alfred Lord Tennyson_

I softly closed the book and set it back on the windowsill, turning away from the view of the softly rolling waves and blue water of the Victor's Island in District 4. The book had been given to me by Katniss just over two years ago, on the anniversary of his death. She had found it when she was looking through the library that resided, though was rarely used, in the former Capitol. She said what had made her think to give Annie the book was the poem, because of who it made her think of.

I agreed, if he had ever written anything, taken the beautiful words he could craft and penned them down on paper, it would have been like this. It spoke true of what he would have wanted, and yet I could not bring myself not to cry, not to hold sadness as the poem wished.

A small droplet of water dropped down, staining the dress that was really a old white shirt of his. It wasn't fair for them, so many people were happy, free. And yet I was still trapped, by memories and sorrow when everyone else had broken free of that.

Peeta had cracked one day shortly after the rebellion, and stuck out at Katniss. Many tears had joined the salty ocean as Katniss cried on her and Johanna's shoulders but she had gotten over it. Peeta was happily married to a girl from district 7, and Katniss and Gale were together as they always should have been. I had always liked Gale after he rescued her, he, more then anyone deserved to be happy with Katniss.

I was glad for my friends, even Johanna had found love, a man from District 1 who was able to balance out her general unpleasantness. But it was hard not to be jealous and feel that I deserved that more then any of them. My games drove me mad and I was finally overcoming that, he was killed. Him, who had spent his whole life as a prostitute just to protect the ones who he loved. And when he broke free, got married, he was killed. We were having a baby, a bright new future in front of us, whose lives had been ruined by the games and the Capitol.

And what about my son, who will never get to know just what a wonderful man his father was. He looks like him, acts like him, and yet will never know him. He would have been a wonderful father, no matter how much he doubted that. Just as wonderful to his son as he has always been to me. Why did he have to die, what did I ever do to deserve it? What did he do to deserve it?

A fallings star caught my eye, reminding me that I should be going to bed, but I couldn't draw myself away from the window. How many nights had I stood here with his arms around me, his head buried in my hair. He had always said that this was his favorite view except for me.

The crisp fabric fluttered against my skin, as I pulled myself together and made for our, no my, bed. Though his smell had faded from his pillow, as he had rarely been allowed to spend anytime in his own bed. The scent still remained on his favorite shirt which I wrapped around me now.

A small rapping on the door pulled me out of my thoughts and a face peaked around the door.

"Mom, is it okay if I spend the night here?"

A soft smile breaks across my face, "Come on, lie down," I said patting the bed.

I was thankful for Finnick, it was only because of him that I had managed to pull myself out of the pit of insanity that the games had put me in. He had no father anymore so I had to take care of him on my own and that meant I couldn't relapse after his death. He was the sweetest boy I knew, just like his father. Even at five, he knew what day it was tomorrow, what our visit to the beach with all of our friend to set petals floating in the water was to honor. He knew that tonight, of all nights, I would need him more then anything. The late visit hadn't been for him, it was for my benefit.

I wrapped my arms around, knowing that he could feel the tears that were sliding down my cheeks. But he didn't remark as we both fell into the oblivion of sleep.

* * *

><p>The man sat bolt upright in bed, sweat dripping down onto the clean white sheets. A man and a woman came rushing into the room, hearing his screams.<p>

"I remember, I don't know how I just do. It has started coming back."

Tears had started flowing down his cheeks, "Annie, I am so sorry I left you, but don't worry, I will find you."

* * *

><p><strong>I couldn't help but include that poem in this story. It is a tradition in my family for the eldest to read it at every funeral. My uncle was suppose to read it at my grandfather's before he was killed so he ended reading it at my uncles when my aunt read it at his. I don't own the Hunger Games, or the poem.<strong>

**My loyal readers will know that I do trivia at the end of my chapters...**

**Crossing the Bar is involved in a book that is very similar to the Hunger Games. The first line of the book is **

_**"Now that I've found the way to fly, which direction should I go into the night.". **_**In the book the poem could get the main character in a lot of trouble, all because it tells you to fight. Can anyone name the book?**


	2. O' Captain

**WARNING: I HAVE JOHANNA SPEAKING IN THIS CHAPTER AND USING VERY STRONG LANGUAGE, IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THAT, DON'T READ!**

_O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;  
>The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;<br>The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,  
>While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:<em>

_But O heart! heart! heart!_

_O the bleeding drops of red,_

_Where on the deck my Captain lies,_

_Fallen cold and dead._

_O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;_

_Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;_

_For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;_

_For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;_

_Here Captain! dear father!_

_This arm beneath your head;_

_It is some dream that on the deck,_

_You've fallen cold and dead._

_My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;_

_My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;_

_The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;_

_From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;_

_Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!_

_But I, with mournful tread,_

_Walk the deck my Captain lies,_

_Fallen cold and dead._

_-Walt Whitman_

The morning sun woke me as it spilled in through the window and bathed the room in golden light. My mother sighed and stretched, planting a small kiss on my forehead before turning to the window and sighing.

She was always saying that I was growing up to fast, that I shouldn't be so serious at my age. She always blamed herself, that I knew. When I was born she was struggling with the loss of my father and her own madness. She had told me about the horror that both my parents had suffered through. The things that she had seen that had sent her spiraling into madness. Madness that it took my father to pull her out of. I was proud of her, she had made so many sacrifices to raise me.

She always said I was just like him, in appearance and personality but I wish I could have met him but even more then that, I wish he was here for mom. Every day I know she misses him, and today more then another, I see her crying over then man she loves.

Today it is six years, six years since my father was killed and every year we do the same thing. All my mother and father's friends from the rebellion come and we drop sugar cubes into the water, everyone says they were my father's favorite. Aunt Johanna makes some comments that mom covers my ears to keep me hearing. And everyone else cries and laughs over stories about him and my mom always reads the poem.

There are two of them from the book that Aunt Katniss and Uncle Gale gave her. One is her favorite, the other mine and she always reads the one I like. And as we stand, our feet pressed into the damp sand and our tears joining the salt water of the ocean, we all honoring the same person, who no longer stands by our side.

* * *

><p><strong>Annie's POV<strong>

The sun, washing though the room roused me from my peaceful slumber. Frankly I was glad Finnick had joined me last night, without him I was sure I would have suffered though a night of nothing but painful, haunting, memories. I pressed a kiss to my son's forehead as he blinked sleepily up at me. For a second, and only a second, I though he was the other one. The one who used to stare at me, sleep heavily accenting his beautiful eyes and his bronze hair falling across his face, but I knew he wasn't.

The whole day felt like I was sleepwalking, my mind in a haze and yet somehow I managed to get down to the beach, tossing sugar cubes into the gently rolling water. Around me the people who shared the same sorrow as me did the same. Next to me Johanna began to speak about him and I made an move to cover my sons ears, however quick he was growing up, I wasn't about to let him learn the language that Johanna was undoubtedly about to use.

"You know Finnick, you were a good friend. Yes, sometimes you were a mother fucking son of a bitch, but a good friend, a loyal friend. Yeah, you let Snow, who I don't have words strong enough to describe, use you as a whore but that made you a much better person then me. Before I won the games I though you were just a sex loving asshole and yet after I realized that you were brave, much braver then me. I said no, and my family paid the ultimate price for that, but you sacrificed your life, just to protect the ones you loved, something I could never do. I don't know how Annie put up with you, bastard that you were, but you two deserved each other about as much as Snow deserves to rot in hell for all of eternity."

I head her voice crack, tears streaming down her cheeks, and yet she continued on.

"You were the only person I could ever get along with before the rebellion no matter how much I insulted you. I need my friend back, Gale, Katniss and everyone else do to. Annie needs her husband, and more then anything your son needs his father. Finnick, you hear me, get your fucking ass back here because otherwise I am going to have to come and haul you back."

And with that she collapsed sobbing, into a heap of the beach and her lover made a move to go and comfort her. Gale softly stroked Katniss' shoulder as she turned her head into his chest and he softly kissed the top of her head. He was trying to be strong for her, but even he had tears falling softly into his wife's dark hair.

I felt Finnick press the book into my hands and I opened up the crisp pages to his poem. As much as I loved Crossing the Bar, the other one did fit best, and I owed it to my son to read. Slowly I began to voice the words, my voice cracking by the end of the second stanza and as I faded off a small voice pick up where I had left off. He knew the words, I had read them to him a hundred times and my son didn't need any prompting as he ended the poem.

_"From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;_

_Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!_

_But I, with mournful tread,_

_Walk the deck my Captain lies,_

_Fallen cold and dead."_

* * *

><p>Five years and 364 days, lost in oblivion and now, on the six year anniversary that the man had been found, close to death he could remember, not everything, but her and the rest of his life which was coming back, a bit everyday. Six years he had been gone, and now he was going to come back to her, his wife and his child, he would find them.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Congratulations to everyone who got the trivia correct, the book is called <span>Matched<span> by Ally Condie. But there are two questions this time.**

**The poem at the beginning was written about something or more someone. Can anyone tell me what Whitman wrote it for?**

**If Matched hold the love triangle of the Hunger Games, then this book contains the action. The first line is, "My mother thinks I'm dead. Obviously I'm not dead, but it's safer for her to think that." The books came out very recently and the book trailer starts off with two people speaking.**

**The first, a boy says, "I am the most wanted fugitive in the republic." **

**And then a girl says, "I am the republics most gifted solider."**

**What is the name of the book?**


	3. Love is more Thicker than Forget

** I don't own the Hunger Games or the poems. I can't apologize enough for the lack of updates but between an extensive lack of time and writers block this chapter came together very slowly. It didn't help that I couldn't find a poem that fit, and the poems are my inspiration. But here it is at last and at some point I will manage to find time to write the next one. Maybe on the plane for Chicago and for all you Divergent fans (excellent book) I am so excited to be going for that reason, and the fact that I get to skip school, every teenagers dream.**

* * *

><p><em> love is more thicker than forget<em>

_more thinner than recall_

_more seldom than a wave is wet_

_more frequent than to fail_

_it is most mad and moonly_

_and less it shall unbe_

_than all the sea which only_

_is deeper than the sea_

_love is less always than to win_

_less never than alive_

_less bigger than the least begin_

_less littler than forgive_

_it is most sane and sunly_

_and more it cannot die_

_than all the sky which only_

_is higher than the sky_

_-E.E. Cummings_

* * *

><p>He found himself grasping at strings, that didn't exist. Trying to grab at a shell that he knew Annie would adore, only to have the waves sweep it away.<p>

Annie, that name, the woman that he left behind. Her dark hair and bright green eyes, the only things that tied him to who he was, who he intends to be again. She is the key, to the chest were all his memories are locked away.

The dress that she had worn that night, the night they were married. The only full memory he had, not just a snippet, the night that could reveal who he was, but all he could see that night was her, joy glowing on her face.

Their child, she had told him she was pregnant, there lying on their bed peacefully. And the way her stomach began to swell, making her that much more beautiful, untill... darkness, nothing.

But other then memories of her there was only destruction and death, carnage, terror.

Children dying, their pain tattooed into his memory, ensnared in nets as a trident pierces their body, their blood running down to the ground.

All over his walls are drawings of his memories, plastered there so he never again forgets. Most of them are of her but there is that one. The one of the shimmering buildings that he can never quite remember seeing, with blood running through the street. And the clock tower, that has sections instead of numbers, depicting different horrors. And the rose, that one rose, to perfect to be beautiful and instead horrible. A picture that his hand guided him to draw, not something he though about, just did. And even today he is not sure where the memories came from.

His hands ran over the books' leather spines and then his hands brushed something different, hard, artificial feeling. A book he had never seen, much less read. Although that wasn't much of a reader, not except for Annie. He had a feeling that if she had asked him to jump, he would have instantly asked, how high?

He pulled it out, The Complete History of the Hunger Games (through the 73rd games). That name, he knew that name, The Hunger Games, he must have associated it with pain, that was the only explanation of the pain and terror he felt, mixed with regret. He flipped it opened, to the first page, and began to read.

"The Hunger Games are the annual competition that reminds the districts of the Capitols dominance and the reason to avoid rebellion. Every year two tributes, a boy and a girl, are reaped from each district, 24 in all, to fight to the death. 23 of them will die and the one lest standing will receive glory and rewards beyond their wildest dreams. The tributes range from ages 12-18 and are given a variety weapons to eliminate the competition."

He knew that, it wasn't just nighmares, the destruction, it was The Hunger Games, he was in it. And if he was in it, it must have meant he won.

He quickly turned the pages, looking for a clue, anything. His name, the one he had never known and know, he had a chance to. Katrin and Patrick, the people who had rescued him. They had been cut off from the world their whole lives, on the other side of the Capitol, didn't know his name.

He kept flipping, until one picture caught his attention. It was him, dressed like a half-naked fish admittedly but it was still him. Next to that was him again, in a skimpy net holding a large trident. The heading above that read Finnick Odiar, his name, it had to be his name. He knew it was his name, he remembered it. He was from District 4, the ocean region, and he had won The Hunger Games.

And there she was, a few chapters later, dressed as a mermaid. Annie Cresta, she was beautiful, with her dark hair and bright eyes. She must have been 16 or 17 in the picture. He quickly flipped to the next page to read what it said about her.

"A tribute from District 4, Annie Cresta won her games by staying afloat the longest after the dam in the arena broke and it was flooded. She never participtated in any mentoring after that so we know little about her, except for that fact that she went mad after she saw her district partners head cut off by an axe."

Annie, his mermaid, his poor little mad girl back home. And suddenly a line came to his head, something a friend of his had once told him. His friend, Johanna was her name, one of his best friends. About a comment from another friend, "so thats who Finnick loves, I think, not one of his fancy lovers in the Capitol. But, a poor mad girl back home." Something she had muttered unintentionally, Katniss, that was her name, the one who had made the comment.

It was all coming back now, not fast enough but it was coming back. He had to find Annie, his poor, mad, mermaid, wife, the mother of his child. He had to get back to her, and District 4 seemed like the place to start. He made a quick grab for another book, pulling out a map, and located District 4. It was time for him to find his way home.

* * *

><p><em>Take my hand<em>

_and I will close my eyes_  
><em>guide me home<em>  
><em>and as a child <em>  
><em>I will eagerly fantasize<em>

_Its been along time since I've been home_  
><em>and I hope I am nearly there<em>  
><em>no matter how far you are, they say<em>  
><em>home knows no race, no distance<em>  
><em>home is fair<em>

_home is at the end of war_  
><em>home is in the peacfull sun<em>  
><em>home is in the mornings breeze<em>  
><em>home is where it all began<em>

_they say, even if you run away_  
><em>home can still find you<em>  
><em>they say you cant have it all<em>  
><em>but occasionaly you deserve do <em>

_home is in a Child's laughter_  
><em>home is in a lover's arms<em>  
><em>home is in a new chapter<em>  
><em>home is where you make it yours <em>

_Ayesha Sartawi_

* * *

><p><p>

**Sorry if I misused the quote about Annie from the book, but I really wanted to use it. Congratulations to everyone who got the trivia correct, the book is called Legend by Marie Lu. The Answer to the second question about the poem at the beginning, it was written about the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.**


	4. Hold On, He's Coming Home

**I don't own the Hunger Games or any of the songs in the chapter.**

_Let America be America again._

_Let it be the dream it used to be._

_Let it be the pioneer on the plain_

_Seeking a home where he himself is free._

_(America never was America to me.)_

_Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed-_

_Let it be that great strong land of love_

_Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme_

_That any man be crushed by one above._

_(It never was America to me.)_

_O, let my land be a land where Liberty_

_Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,_

_But opportunity is real, and life is free,_

_Equality is in the air we breathe._

_(There's never been equality for me,_

_Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")_

_Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? _

_And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?_

_I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,_

_I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars._

_I am the red man driven from the land,_

_I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek-_

_And finding only the same old stupid plan_

_Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak._

_I am the young man, full of strength and hope,_

_Tangled in that ancient endless chain_

_Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!_

_Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!_

_Of work the men! Of take the pay!_

_Of owning everything for one's own greed!_

_I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil._

_I am the worker sold to the machine._

_I am the Negro, servant to you all._

_I am the people, humble, hungry, mean-_

_Hungry yet today despite the dream._

_Beaten yet today-O, Pioneers!_

_I am the man who never got ahead,_

_The poorest worker bartered through the years._

_Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream_

_In the Old World while still a serf of kings,_

_Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,_

_That even yet its mighty daring sings_

_In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned_

_That's made America the land it has become._

_O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas_

_In search of what I meant to be my home-_

_For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,_

_And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,_

_And torn from Black Africa's strand I came_

_To build a "homeland of the free."_

_The free?_

_Who said the free? Not me?_

_Surely not me? The millions on relief today?_

_The millions shot down when we strike?_

_The millions who have nothing for our pay?_

_For all the dreams we've dreamed_

_And all the songs we've sung_

_And all the hopes we've held_

_And all the flags we've hung,_

_The millions who have nothing for our pay-_

_Except the dream that's almost dead today._

_O, let America be America again-_

_The land that never has been yet-_

_And yet must be-the land where every man is free._

_The land that's mine-the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME-_

_Who made America,_

_Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,_

_Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,_

_Must bring back our mighty dream again._

_Sure, call me any ugly name you choose-_

_The steel of freedom does not stain._

_From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,_

_We must take back our land again,_

_America!_

_O, yes,_

_I say it plain,_

_America never was America to me,_

_And yet I swear this oath-_

_America will be!_

_Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,_

_The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,_

_We, the people, must redeem_

_The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers._

_The mountains and the endless plain-_

_All, all the stretch of these great green states-_

_And make America again!_

_-__Langston Hughes_

* * *

><p>The districts had changed, at least from what he remembered. Gone were the Peacemakers, the electric fences, the barbed and razor wire. The starving people and the horrors had disappeared. They vague visions from his memory had been replaced by peace and beauty.<p>

As Finnick trekked through the woods he was amazed by the way the birds' songs echoed through the dense trees. A bird fluttered down onto a branch a Finnick though for a second before identifying it, a Mockingjay. It bird paused for a second among the rustling leaves whistling a sad tune, one Finnick though he might have heard before, though didn't know very well. And then the song changed, to one he did know, better then almost any, the one she loved.

_It's the boy you never told I like you_

_It's the girl you let get away_

_It's the one you saw that day on the train_

_But you freaked out and walked away_

_It's the plane you wanna catch to Vegas_

_Things you swear you do before you die_

_It's the city you love that waits for you_

_But you're too damn scared to fly_

The lyrics slipped out of his mouth with the tune as he a the bird harmonized. As they finished the last note of the song together the bird took off and Finnick started off on his trip again, suddenly less weary with a lighter heart.

* * *

><p>Annie gazed out over the waves breaking on the beach, the stars reflecting in the ever moving water. The night was not only moon less but also cloudless and the stars shone brighter then ever before.<p>

As a star arched itself across the scintillating sky, leaving behind a shimmering trail. She opened her mouth a let her sweet voice drift across the beach.

_A cry of hope_  
><em>A plea for peace<em>  
><em>And my conscience beating<em>  
><em>It's not what I want for<em>  
><em>It's all that I need<em>  
><em>To reach the break of day<em>  
><em>So I run to the edge<em>  
><em>Beyond the shadow of a doubt<em>  
><em>With my conscience bleeding<em>  
><em>Here lies the truth<em>  
><em>The lost treasures of my youth<em>  
><em>As I hold on to the break of day<em>

The last note died away as she collapsed down onto the window seat, tears flowing down her face.

* * *

><p>Finnick stood at the crest of the hill looking down on District Four. It was his home, he could remember that now, infect he could remember everything. Including the house the rested on the beach and the woman who might be there mourning for him.<p>

He smiled out over the ocean, the sun beating down on him, the wind tugging his hair back. A small sailboat skimmed across the waves, the wind caught in the sails embrace as it tipped to the side and the owner laid out flat off the edge to keep the boat from turtling.

There was no question in his mind, he was almost home.

* * *

><strong>Sorry that was so short but I am working on it.<strong>


	5. Touched by an Angle

**Hey, I know it has been a long time since I updated but school life is hectic and I have been trying to update all of my stories, this one will come around but I have to space my update out. I am almost mad at myself for basing every chapter on a poem, because, now I have to come up with the poems. This one I found in my archives, so I hope you like it and it works. **

**Also, a special announcement to make, one of my poems, not even one of my favorites, was chosen to be read at a special event and before the reading, which I am expected to attend, there are workshops. How does this relate to you, you may ask? Well, my special readers, I am hoping to improve on the things I suck at, so keep your fingers crossed and hope I learn something that can improve this story.**

* * *

><p><em>We, unaccustomed to courage<em>

_exiles from delight_

_live coiled in shells of loneliness_

_until love leaves its high holy temple_

_and comes into our sight_

_to liberate us into life._

_Love arrives_

_and in its train come ecstasies_

_old memories of pleasure_

_ancient histories of pain._

_Yet if we are bold,_

_love strikes away the chains of fear_

_from our souls._

_We are weaned from our timidity_

_In the flush of love's light_

_we dare be brave_

_And suddenly we see_

_that love costs all we are_

_and will ever be._

_Yet it is only love_

_which sets us free._

_-Maya Angelou_

* * *

><p>Finnick slipped through the people, moving rapidly now, not stopping to give an, "Excuse me," to the many people he slammed into in his haste. Many of the adults, stopped to look at him, before deciding that his hair was to long and he looked to unkempt to be their famous victor, the handsome Finnick Odair. Several girls fawned over him, yet he never noticed, so focused on his goal, he was.<p>

The already salty air, steadily grew even more fragrant smelling as Finnick strode over the rapidly thinning fresh green grass, which was quickly giving way to sharp strands of dune grass.

He rose over the crest of the dunes at halted, starstruck by the view.

Below him, deep blue, sparkling water, giving way to white foam as the waves broke on the white sand. A gray shingled house with white trim lay nestled in the dunes, rose bushes surrounded it. These roses were nothing like the ones from his nightmares, those roses had been perfect, blood red and white, but these, they were more real, soft pink with yellow insides. The air smelled like salt and roses, the smell of the island at its strongest.

These weren't the most beautiful things about the view, nor was the sky which was just beginning to change colors. Down on the beach stood a woman, her brown hair whipped in the ocean breeze, tangled curls, her soft blue dress was pulled behind her by the winds fingers.

Finnick stumbled in the soft sand as the memories hit him, all the memories, the ones that had lain hidden, up until this moment, now he remembered everything.

Over his initial shock, he gazed in awe at the beautiful woman, his mermaid, his wife. She began to turn, on her way to return to the cottage in the dunes, so he began to run.

His feet flew over the sand, he was traveling at a speed that he was sure he has never traveled at before, eating up the ground. His throat when dry with shouting, "Wait, Annie, don't go!"

Annie turned in shock, tears filling her eyes, as she to began to run.

They met in a crashing embrace, squeezing each other tighter then possible.

Stuttered confused words spilled out of both their mouthes.

"Oh, Finnick... I though your were dead."

"I told you I would always return to you."

"I missed you so much."

"I lost my memory, all of it, only just returned."

"I don't care, as long as you are back in my arms."

They hugged again, before leaning forward, and for the first time in years, their lips met.

When they at last broke apart, Annie paused, "Finnick, there is something you need to know. After you left I discovered I was pregnant. His name is Finnick, after you, he's six, and he looks just like you."

She broke off when she looked up and saw his face, he was shocked, but tears were slowly falling from his eyes, tears which she misunderstood.

"I'm sorry if you didn-," She broke off as Finnick spun her around, before thoroughly kissing her. "But you were crying?"

He stood before, most definitely crying, his hair rustled by the wind, a huge grin cutting its way across his face. "Annie," He said, setting her down on the ground, "This is the best moment in my entire life, I have my wife back, and I have a son. What more could I possibly want?"

Annie stared up at him, into his eyes, brimming with love. They could at last be together as a family. She took his hand and led him up to the cottage, finally together again.

* * *

><p>They entered the house, closing the door softly behind them and the pounding of a child's feet greeted them.<p>

"Mommy, your back!" The small boy said as he came running into the room. Finnick stood still, shell shocked at the little boy. He was perfect, a little bit of him and a little bit of Annie.

"Sweetie, I have someone I want you to meet. Remember how I said that your father had died. I turns out that he lost his memory and he just got it back. He is going to live with us from now on."

Finnick stood there nervously, hoping that his son wouldn't reject him. But as it turned out, there was nothing to worry about.

The boy ran to him, throwing his arms around his newly discovered father and Finnick picked him up and spun him. "I always wanted my Daddy to come back." The identical grins on their faces grew even larger. "Well I am so excited to have a son," Finnick replied as he set Finn down, still hugging him. He pulled Annie into their embrace and the family stood together as the sun set over the ocean.


	6. If I Forget You

**I don't own the Hunger Games, I would have never killed off Finnick and Katniss would have ended up with girl. **

**Warning: Johanna appears in this chapter, some swearing.**

**Just incase you haven't already figured it out, I kinda have a thing for bad boys and if they are characters in books that makes it even better. My personal favorite would be Will Herondale who has just a small edge over Jace. I almost cried in City of Lost Souls when Clary sees his letter to Tessa in A Tale of Two Cities. So today instead of a lecture about how busy my life is I leave you with a quote, well two, or maybe however many I feel like. **

_"But—but..." Will sputtered._

_"Oh, leave it," said Jem, kicking Will, not without affection, lightly on the ankle._

_"She annexed my plan!"_

_"Will," Tessa said firmly. "Do you care more about the plan being enacted or about getting credit for it?"_

_Will pointed a finger at her. "That," he said. "The second one." _

_"I just wondered," Gabriel said, in more subdued voice, "if perhaps you have ever had enough." _

_"Enough of what?" _

_"Enough of behaving as you do." _

_Will crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes glistening dangerously. "Oh, I can never get enough," he said. "Which, incidentally, is what your sister said to me when─" _

_The carriage door flew open. A hand shot out, grabbed Will by the back of his shirt, and hauled him inside." _

_"That was enterprising," Will sounded nearly impressed. _

_Nate smiled. Tess shot him a furious look. "Don't look pleased with yourself. When Will says 'enterprising' he means 'morally deficient.'" _

_"No, I mean enterprising," said Will. "When I mean morally deficient, I say, 'Now, that's something I would have done." _

* * *

><p><em>I want you to know<em>

_one thing._

_You know how this is:_

_if I look_

_at the crystal moon, at the red branch_

_of the slow autumn at my window,_

_if I touch_

_near the fire_

_the impalpable ash_

_or the wrinkled body of the log,_

_everything carries me to you,_

_as if everything that exists,_

_aromas, light, metals,_

_were little boats_

_that sail_

_toward those isles of yours that wait for me._

_Well, now,_

_if little by little you stop loving me_

_I shall stop loving you little by little._

_If suddenly_

_you forget me_

_do not look for me,_

_for I shall already have forgotten you._

_If you think it long and mad,_

_the wind of banners_

_that passes through my life,_

_and you decide_

_to leave me at the shore_

_of the heart where I have roots,_

_remember_

_that on that day,_

_at that hour,_

_I shall lift my arms_

_and my roots will set off_

_to seek another land._

_But_

_if each day,_

_each hour,_

_you feel that you are destined for me_

_with implacable sweetness,_

_if each day a flower_

_climbs up to your lips to seek me,_

_ah my love, ah my own,_

_in me all that fire is repeated,_

_in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,_

_my love feeds on your love, beloved,_

_and as long as you live it will be in your arms_

_without leaving mine_

_-Pablo Neruda_

* * *

><p>It was a different experience for Finnick, waking up with the sun's rays warming his cheeks and the cool salt breeze that blew off the ocean cooling his bear skin. That wasn't the new part though, that was something he felt everyday growing up. Nether was Annie lying fast asleep on his chest, her small body tucked into his and her hand resting on his chest. The new part of it was who lay curled up in his other arm, his son. Never had Finnick seen a more beautiful boy, he thought his heart was going to burst when, during the night, he came and snuggled up against Finnick. As Finn shifted in waking Finnick knew that he could never love anyone any more than he loved the two people who lay with him now.<p>

He slowly pulled his arm out from under Annie, resting her head on a pillow as Finn yawned sleepily up at him. Finnick picked him up and carried him to the kitchen so they didn't wake Annie.

"Morning dad," Finnick smiled down at his son. "Good morning, I was thinking that we could make breakfast for your mom." Finn quickly agreed to the idea and then began to ruin the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Annie slowly woke and smiled at the delighted giggles and Finnick's laugh that she could hear emanating from the kitchen. The laughter halted and she could hear a creek on the stair and a loud shushing.<p>

The door swung open to reveal her two boys, both had a bit of flour on them and tangled in their identical hair but she really couldn't be mad at them because of the way they were smiling so brightly. Finnick held a tray that was weighted down with waffles, covered in syrup, whipped cream, powdered sugar, and strawberries, exactly how she loved them. A pitcher of fresh squeezed Orange Juice cast a shadow over the mounds of toppings that were heaped onto of the fluffy waffles.

Annie laughed at their pleased and proud grins as she patted the bed next to her. Finnick set the tray down sweeping her into his arms and carrying her onto the balcony where a blanket had been spread out in the sun. They sat, Finn on his father's lap and Annie tucked against her husband and ate the incredible breakfast as a family.

* * *

><p>By noon the family had ventured down to the beach where Annie sat on the beach watching as Finnick and Finn splashed around in the waves. This is what she had always wanted, ever since she was a small girl. But as much as she had wanted it, she knew one person who had wanted it more than her, Finnick. He had once confided in her that if the Capital didn't exist, he would have married her and they would be raising a huge family by now.<p>

Finn came running up to her to show her the Sand Dollar that he had found and she ruffled his hair. She lent to place a kiss on his head and noticed that Finnick had stopped still, a huge grin on his face as he watched his wife and son interact. So enthralled he was that he didn't notice the massive was until it broke on top of him, slamming him into the sand. He jumped out of the water and the indignant look on his face made Annie laugh. He came up to her whining about all the scratches that he had running up and down his back that were made by the harsh grains of sand.

* * *

><p>Though most of their friends lived near the districts they had come from, Johanna had deserted the hated forests of District Seven in favor of the seaside home of Lucas, her husband. Annie has called her up, asking them to dinner, neglecting to tell her about the fifth person who would be at the table.<p>

Finn opened the door and Annie smiled, embracing their friends. "You seem in a good mood today."

"I am, I really am," Annie replied with a huge grin on her face. "She is, she hasn't stopped smiling all day," Finnick said as he entered the room, kissing the top of Annie's head and scooping Finn up into arms.

Johanna stood still, absolutely shocked as Lucas shifted uncomfortably. Suddenly she began to move as Finnick put Finn down and tucked him behind his body for protection. Johanna jumped into his arms, sobbing into his chest, punching and hitting him with all her might. The tears stopped quickly, she wasn't going to show to much emotion.

"Finnick, you son of a bitch, where have you been?"

"J-J," Finnick said to her, call her the nickname that he knew she hated. "I lost my memory on the mission and I only just got it back. I found Annie yesterday."

"I'm just glad you back," she said, giving him one last tight hug.

They introduced Lucas and as the friends moved towards the deck where they would be eating dinner Lucas told Finnick what Johanna had said about him at the last memorial service.

Dinner was a friendly affair, Finnick got questioned quite a bit. At one point when Johanna asked about where there relationship would go, Finnick's declaration of how he would never leave Annie again made her burst into tears. As a answer to the strange looks she was receiving she blamed it on pregnancy hormones to a huge congratulations and a bit of embarrassment from Finnick. Lucas and Finnick got along well and as Annie and Johanna spoke of the baby they went outside and Finnick explained how he knew Johanna.

* * *

><p>After dinner ended Finn went off to bed, his own tonight, and Finnick lead Annie upstairs to their room, they could be alone as a couple at last.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>I am going to try and get the epilogue up as soon as possible but I am studying for the SAT so that could take awhile.<strong>


	7. Epilogue

**I don't own the Hunger Games, Finnick wouldn't have died if I did. **

**Last chapter here I as I write this I can't help but reflect on where I started. Thank you to all the reviewers and everyone who read it and all of you who favorited or followed it. As I begin this chapter there are 7,490 words, 5 reviews, 687 views, 2 favorites, and 2 alerts. Though this isn't my most popular story it may be the one I feel proudest about. All of you who have shared this story with me I hope you got forth and continue to write your own things but if you enjoyed this story, continue to share it with you friends and your fans. **

**I will be going back and editing each chapter, adding a deleting things to fit the finished story together better. You can expect a few small changes and for the authors notes to be deleted but for most purposes this story will stay the same. I am quite proud of what I have written so this story won't get changed as much as many of my others.**

**READ THE BLURB AT THE BOTTOM FOR A POSSIBILITY OF A SEQUEL!**

* * *

><p><em>At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time,<em>

_ When you set your fancies free,_

_Will they pass to where—by death, fools think, imprisoned—_

_Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so,_

_ —Pity me?_

_ Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken!_

_ What had I on earth to do_

_With the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly?_

_Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did I drivel_

_ —Being—who?_

_ One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,_

_ Never doubted clouds would break,_

_Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,_

_Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,_

_ Sleep to wake._

_ No, at noonday in the bustle of man's work-time_

_ Greet the unseen with a cheer!_

_Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be,_

_"Strive and thrive!" cry "Speed,—fight on, fare ever_

_ There as here!"_

_-Robert Browning_

* * *

><p>Sometimes it was hard for Annie to comprehend that just a year ago she was mourning Finnick's death and he stood next to her as the faced life together. The sat in the porch swing, drifting slowly back and forth as they watched the people who they considered their family. Finn scurried around with Katniss and Gale's daughter as they attempted to capture the fireflies that lazily flashed in the warm summer air. Primrose was five and had her father wrapped around her little finger. Lucas and Johanna stood together, holding their son Henry. Fireworks exploded in the distance, celebrating the freedom from the Capital but the friends were happy not to be at a celebration. The fireflies began to leave and the friends settled down on the soft grass to watch for shooting stars.<p>

The couples were all curled together, Annie and Finnick, Katniss and Gale, Johanna and Lucas (they had put Henry to bed.) Even Finn and Primrose lay together, breathing in the air the smelt of salt and island roses.

Finnick caressed Annie's rounded belly where their daughter grew and somewhere in the moment, even if it was only a moment, everything was perfect in the world.

* * *

><p><strong>I was never planning on there being a sequel but if people are interested I could write one about Finn and Primrose or Henry and Finnick and Annie's daughter. I would be delighted to write them if people are interested. <strong>

**I know it is short but I only wanted a quick ending. I was tearing up as I wrote this chapter, its over guys we have come to the end.**


End file.
